Professionalization

Since some of my close buds are going through the painstaking process of finding that first job after college, I thought I’d share a little 2-years-out reflection on the whole working in the real world thing:

College was a time when I spent a great deal of effort on coming to terms with my sexuality and learning how to negotiate this new "self" with my old and new networks – friends, family, peers, etc. Graduating and finding a great first job was, for me, my way of proving to myself and to the world that even though I was a wishy-washy liberal and activist…I could do just as well as people who had not gone through what I did and probably majored in something more practical like business.

I started my job hunt the December before graduation, sending resumes to over 200 companies in the field I thought I wanted to work in. I landed a job right as graduation neared, and moved to New York City in late June.

Let me be the first to tell you that life sucked. Even though I lived in the beautiful West 70s (we found the perfect place) and I had a great job in the business world, adjusting to a regular work schedule – waking up at 7am, getting to work at 8:30am, returning home at 6:30pm, eating, and going to bed to start the whole process again in the morning – made me feel like life was over. I was exhausted by the end of the day, and I no longer had the time to just…do things that made me happy. Work was okay, but didn’t make me happy the way I hoped it would. One month in, I started thinking about grad school and the possibility of looking for a new job.

The reality is that this feeling is pretty common for people coming out of the college; for me, this period lasted about 4 months, and then I started doing a lot better – I adjusted to my schedule, I realized that I didn’t like my field too much and slowly kept my eyes peeled for new opportunities, and I discovered coffee. Five months after starting my first job, I landed Perfect Job in Ideal Field, and now life, for the most part, is quite good.

I do have to express, though, that this transition many people go through after graduating college is reflective of a highly privileged upbringing – I never had to work a great number of hours for a job I didn’t entirely like while trying to balance a million other things, like my finances, my apartment, schooling, a family, etc. But this aside, I think the difficulties privileged folks like myself undergo when transitioning to the working world are reflective of something interesting from a sociological perspective: transitioning to the workforce and to be successful in many workplaces/fields – “becoming a professional” – is kind of an identity struggle in and of itself.

There are moments now, as I’m becoming comfortable in the workplace and confident in my ability to do work, when I realize I’ve become “a professional”. When someone calls for me on the phone I reflexively act happy and excited to hear from them, and grateful for the good work they’ve brought to the table. When I sit in a meeting, I always bring a notepad and pen and I try to anticipate questions about anything that might be brought up during the meeting. I offer to help with others’ projects I may not have anything to do with. I am outgoing at work, I always ask how people are doing, how their weekends were, what they’re doing for the holiday. My work identity has, in many ways, been institutionalized -- and it's crazy because those who knew me a few years ago knew me as a very shy, almost socially defunct kind of guy. In some ways I kind of like this new personality I can turn on. I feel that it has helped me to be more successful at work.

Obviously this institutionalized identity can have its problems. What if, for whatever reason, you are unable to fit this behavioral image of “the professional”? What if the ideals of the office are such that other identities (gender/sex/sexuality/ethnicity/socioeconomic status) create a discomfort in the office that causes short term problems and prevents long term growth? And further, what if you become this “professional”, and lose behaviors associated with your original identity to this new, fairly superficial, work-driven way of life? I don’t know that I necessarily want to instinctively start small talk every time I talk to someone. Isn’t that a little fake?

I guess it all comes to finding that balance. Some people – people I’m sure we all know – become the Stepford Robots about everything…work, social life, etc. A lot of them lose flexibility in life. Transitioning to the workforce is rough and can be very demanding, but just make sure that you create a space for yourself. Some of us start blogs, but I’m sure there are other ways to do this, too. :)

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Housekeeping, 1.13.08

+ news +
HIV drug progress,
Virginia? Please...,
and friendliest places to work.

Sincerely,
ts

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Dream Job

When I was five, I had plenty of dreams. As an immigrant inspired by the fully-assimilated American kids on the Disney Channel (who, along with my PBS friends, taught me English), I pictured myself as having the perfect American name: Richard. At that same wee age, I couldn’t wait to go to college. I remember distinctly tattooing “12” into my brain because I had only 12 grades left after kindergarten. Awed by my mom’s cool tiger sweatshirt (a bootleg from the swap meet), I even focused on a particular school: Princeton. After college, I would get married. I thought to myself that my cousin Marilyn might make a good wife; we always had fun while we were at her house. Together, we would have two kids and live in a two-story house, from which I would drive off daily to my dream job as the local TV weatherman…

Well lo and behold: things have changed. When I was five, I didn’t know that my desired name-change would result in a nickname of “Dick”—a tell-tale sign of homosexuality that I missed at the time. I visited Princeton ten years later and was so turned off by the pretentious campus tour guide that I refused to even apply. Incest was a word that only older people knew; marriage was a word that I only thought I knew. And when I was five, I didn’t know that being a weatherman would be just one of my careers. I’d have to make a career out of finding a mate, too. I never knew—and I’m still discovering—that growing up means not only finding a job that I love, but also making a job of finding love.

If you really wanted it to be, dating could be a full-time job. It demands the same leadership skills that other occupations entail: purposeful and strategic thinking, knowledge of the business’ rules and politics, and many over-time hours consuming much effort and energy. In the end, instead of being paid with a salary, you’d get paid in dividends of theoretical happiness.

Unfortunately, most of us aren’t financially-blessed enough to devote our full-time occupational life to the love hunt. After a long day at work, some people have the luxury of not having anything to do; sure, there a dinner dates with friends, errands to run, and favorite TV shows to catch, but other options for post-work activities include frequenting bars, clubs, churches, and other organized events to make a part-time job out of finding The One.

Others of us are, well, married to our jobs. If you work long or unpredictable hours or have an occupation that involves bringing work home, it’s easy to become a workaholic. I’ve been on this path of social devastation since high school. When I was in the eleventh grade, I slept about four hours a night juggling high school class projects with papers for requisite college classes I wanted to complete before actual college; I had agendas to create and copy for our high school’s biggest community service organization and materials I had to gather and create for class spirit rallies. I was a busy fellow, and that’s probably why I didn’t have a single dating experience until I went to college.

What eventually alleviated some of that crushing of social potential was a move to a residential college in Virginia where I learned to re-understand the role of work in my life: it was no longer a mode of academic and career-related productivity; it also provided a means to meet new people. The larger student population meant that the more I got involved with various organizations and classes, the more people I befriended, and the more people I could consider as dating potential. Though my primary drive in college was to deliver the highest level of work possible, I didn’t mind being temporarily distracted by side trips to those also interested in the work that interested me.

That said, though, work has always been an obstacle. The first guy I casually dated ended our blooming relationship after a month to concentrate on his thesis. When I took a June through August internship in Sacramento, my summer fling abruptly ended when I had to return to the hustle and bustle of collegiate life. The next summer, when I returned to Sacramento, my hours to date another man were severely limited by my responsibilities at work: I had about three or fours in the evening, four days a week, to find a compromise between our schedules; over the course of two months, we saw each other just a handful of times. Even in my senior year—at the height of my enjoyment of college achievement and friendships—my own involvement in leadership positions and intense research led to an absolutely barren year with regard to romance.

After working my ass off for those eight years of my life, you’d think I’d cut myself some slack in the work world. Not so: I’ve earned the privilege of being able to work even harder. I work about six days a week, sometimes up to 19 hours a day. I give myself sometimes a day or a day and a half each week to relax, time that I like to spend with the friends I know won’t be as fleeting as the next interesting guy I meet might be. The time to meet others: lacking. I’ve spent time in this blog blaming lots of things for my lack of luck with love; maybe I should really be blaming my choices.

When I was five, I had plenty of dreams. I knew that I had to work hard to achieve them—or at least to evaluate their actual worth and merit. Since then, I’ve accomplished a lot: I’ve received a college education I’m proud of, I have a job that I positively know is worthwhile, and yes, I’m even happy with my name. I foresee further success in my future; it is not out of reach for me to have kids and a two-story house. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I continue to work hard to get where I’m going. What’s missing from making my childhood dreams come true is that which I haven’t yet prioritized as work that needs to get done: the job of finding someone who helps me forget that I have work to do. If I can’t solve that problem strategically, then maybe I’m not as much of a goal-oriented organizational success as I think I am.

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